


The Weight of the Things We Do

by langsdelijn



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Teenage Brocedes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/langsdelijn/pseuds/langsdelijn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico and Lewis always manage to get into some kind of trouble, even doing the most innocuous of things, like kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of the Things We Do

**Author's Note:**

> Title translated from a line in Bløf's _Aanzoek zonder ringen_ ( _en een kwestie van gewicht van de dingen die we doen_ ).

The thing is, Nico does it on a whim, a spur-of-the-moment instant of teenage spontaneity, not because he suddenly has a revelation or because there’s something brewing between them, or even because the view of Lewis’ lips in the gloom—illuminated by the flickers of light from the TV—is too inviting to resist, or because of any other kind of prior context or consideration. It’s just that, in that moment, it occurs to him that kissing Lewis is the best idea he’s had in ages.

And—not being one to second-guess such impulses—so he does. 

Lewis doesn’t react at first. Nico can see his eyes go a little wider; then his hands creep up to Nico’s chest and just sort of stop and hover around his shoulders, and then (just as Nico’s possibly-faulty risk-assessment centres fire back up and belatedly inform him he should, perhaps, be worrying now) finally, opens up to it… to him. Lewis’ hands settle, one tentatively sliding into Nico’s hair, the other around his upper arm, a little below the curve of his shoulder. Nico feels like he should do something with his, which are still sort of hanging there in the space between their bodies, so he does the first thing he can think of and lays them on Lewis’ waist. 

It doesn’t last nearly long enough.

And that is only mostly his own fault. Honestly. Nico leans into Lewis, bending him further backwards with his body, and this eventually means Lewis loses his balance and ends up flat on his back. Nico, whose weight is now resting mostly on Lewis, goes with him and only barely manages to avoid head-butting him and ruin everything in the process. He ends up with his face in the crook of Lewis’ neck instead, which means he can feel the laugh that bubbles up from him in the places their bodies are pressed together. It sounds light, and delighted, but he can hear a brittle edge to it somehow, as if this is something he thinks is too good to be true and he can’t be sure it’s real, and serious.

Lewis’ hand touches Nico’s shoulder again. Nico has been perfectly happy to lie there, not least because the embarrassment of forgetting there are no walls in the middle of the bed still has him red in the face, but, well. He raises himself up on his arms and the view of Lewis stretched out, languidly, beneath him has a different tinge to it all of a sudden than it has had all the other times they’ve been in this position, or the reverse. 

Nico decides he likes it. 

He quite enjoyed kissing Lewis, as well, so he does it again. Lewis does—well, he does something, and Nico has no idea what it is, exactly, but whatever he does shifts their positions in one fluid movement without ever even breaking the kiss. It’s very impressive, in its own way, but Nico isn’t having it and launches a counter-attack to return them to their original arrangement. And Nico engages in the ensuing scuffle with perfectly legitimate means, which means in no way whatsoever contribute to sending them both tumbling over the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

A yelp of genuine pain escapes Lewis, loudly enough that Nico worries it might be audible next door, and he at once winces in sympathy—Lewis’ head really did smack against the floor with some force—and puts his hand over Lewis’ mouth to stem more noise because it’s late, they shouldn’t be up at this hour, and if anyone complains to the hotel they’ll be in so much trouble. (Again, and as usual.) Lewis glares. Nico withdraws his hand. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbles. He did it on instinct. But it had felt—in a different situation, Nico thinks he might want to try that again, maybe.

Lewis rubs the back of his head and hisses in pain. ‘Ooow,’ he whines, voice soft and low. 

‘I could try to kiss it better?’ Nico suggests. Other than the disasters, some avoided narrowly and some avoided not at all, this night has been excellent. Nico is completely sold on the whole making out with Lewis thing. It’s great.

‘You already kissed it worse,’ Lewis grumbles. He makes to sit up, so Nico withdraws a little to give him the space.

They stare at each other. Lewis, now leaning back against the bed, looks like he’s trying not to look expectant. Nico thinks of how up until a few minutes ago, none of this had so much as crossed his mind, of that hint of insecurity he heard hidden behind the relief in Lewis’ laugh, and puts it together. Wow, Nico thinks, he likes me; that hasn’t occurred to him before, either. He’s not even sure why not. 

‘I liked doing that,’ Nico blurts out. ‘Um. The kissing, I mean. Not—’ he snaps his mouth shut before his babbling gets out of hand.

He has no other way to describe Lewis’ reaction to that other than that he seems to unwind, so minutely that Nico thinks that he might not even know himself he was tensed up in wait of confirmation. He smiles. ‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘I liked it, too.’ 

‘So can I do it again?’ Nico asks, a little unnecessarily, probably, but at this rate someone might accidentally end up with a bloody nose and that would be the end of that quite quickly. Asking also, though, gives him a nice little thrill of anticipation that he finds he also quite appreciates.

‘Um,’ Lewis says, which is unexpected. ‘Yes,’ he amends. ‘I mean, wait. Let me get up first.’

Nico gets out of the way. ‘Okay,’ he says. While he waits, he grabs the remote off the bed and turns off the TV, which has gone unwatched for a while, and leaves it on the floor at the foot of the bed. It will, at this rate, inevitably be missing tomorrow, but hey. That thing has sharp edges.

Once Lewis has settled back in on the bed, Nico gets back on, too. He sits there, not quite feeling brave enough to… well, to climb on top of him, even if he’s ended up there incidentally several times already. It’s just that the prospect feels a little weird, is all, like that’s a step beyond just making out, but then again maybe he’s being ridiculous. 

Lewis reaches out and tugs on his shirt, and Nico lets himself follow his direction. ‘Hmm,’ Lewis hums, when Nico is in place and the world has entirely failed to end or become more complicated in any way through him straddling Lewis. ‘That’s better.’

‘Shut up,’ Nico laughs, because seriously, he’s not the one that’s been carrying around a torch for his friend for the past who knows how long and suffering in silence about it for whatever godforsaken reason. And that, by the way, Nico is going to make sure to get to the bottom of in the not immediate, but certainly near, future. After. ‘I’m going to kiss you again,’ Nico announces, and does.


End file.
